December 7th
by A. Windsor
Summary: Arizona has just one more reason to feel conflicted about December 7th.


**Title: **December 7th

**Pairing:** Callie/Arizona  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer**: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My one semester of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

**Summary: **Arizona has just one more reason to feel conflicted about December 7th.

**Author's Note**: _Oklahoma_ was the other battleship fully lost in action at Pearl Harbor. This started off very introspective, all about Arizona and the new development she has to process with this day. And it totally dissolved into fluff. Sorry?

* * *

Of course.

Of course, she has a Pearl Harbor baby. Of course, _this_ baby is a Pearl Harbor baby.

Lena Rose Robbins-Torres, born 12:27am, December 7, 2015, a week ahead of schedule.

She's a pretty little blonde thing (at least the scant peach fuzz on her head is blonde) with bright blue eyes Arizona immediately recognizes from the mirror every morning. And that should feel different, right? To have one that's 'hers', created from her but grown and nurtured inside her beloved Calliope.

And it _does_ feel different, because up until the moment Lena's big brother Asa was born, she hadn't realized just how much she loved, adored, _wanted_ a child, and more specifically that little boy that was half Calliope and all miraculous. She'd held him in her arms and been swept off her feet.

This time it was no less breathtaking, seeing little Lena's first seconds, but she knew it was coming. She and twenty-six-month-old Asa had talked a million times about what it would be like to have the new baby, and this time she was just so totally prepared and excited and downright "obnoxiously bouncy" as Callie accused in the last uncomfortable weeks of her pregnancy.

But she'd been putting off thinking about how it would be different.

People said it would be good different, that everyone wants 'one that looks like you', that it's in humans' narcissistic, reproductive DNA to feel pride in seeing one's genetics passed on.

She can't imagine ever being more proud than she is of every little thing Asa does, so she immediately tosses aside that idea. She's never had the drive to have 'one of her own', and had actually been completely opposed to the idea.

"_They're siblings; they should look alike. A kid can't be luckier than to look like you."_

"_They're siblings no matter what. _I _want a little you. You love that Asa looks like me, right?"_

"_Of course! He's got those big brown eyes and that sweet, sweet smile. I want a million little Callies running around."_

"_Yeah, well, I want a million little Arizonas, so we're gonna have to compromise." _

"_Calliope..."_

"_Arizona... I'm not asking you to be pregnant for nine months. I'm still doing all the work. I'm just asking you, pretty please, to do this for me. You can't sit in the stirrups for less than an hour for the love of your life, the other mother of your children?" _

Callie had worn her down. Of course, Callie had worn her down. She has a very hard time denying Callie the littlest things, so the really big, enormous things? Forget about it. A few well-placed pouts and seductive smiles, and she'd crumbled like a house of cards.

But she'd still been weirded out from the beginning, so it was inevitable that their little girl due December 13 came screaming into this world not that long after midnight on the 74th anniversary of the attacks on Pearl Harbor, the anniversary of her grandfather's death.

"_We're _not_ naming her Oklahoma_,_"_ she'd said before anyone could even joke about it. She and Callie had decided back before Asa was born that their children would have names that provoked less teasing on the playgrounds than their mothers' had, but she wanted to remove all temptation to continue the tradition just because their daughter was born on this day.

Pearl Harbor Day has always been a solemn day in the Robbins household, a day to honor the sacrifices of her grandfather and, later, her brother. It was more important, more serious than Memorial and Veterans Day, because this one was personal, and there were no picnics or parades to distract from the true meaning of this day of infamy.

What kind of birthday is that for a little girl?

"_It's a sign, Daniel_," her mother said over the phone when she'd called her parents with the news. _"It's a sign that you all have to stop your moping about this one day, because now this isn't just _that_ day: it's our granddaughter's birthday."_

Her father had grunted and harrumphed on the other line.

"_You can still have your little rituals, but how can you not be happy? Arizona, he's been smiling since you called, he's just too stubborn to admit it. And see, there, now he's trying to hide it and he can't." _

"_Mom, you don't have to..."_

"_Your mother's right."_

"_Oh my goodness, I've fainted from the shock."_

"_Thank you, Emeline."_

She'd almost laughed at their obvious sarcasm, and they'd continued to bicker and lovingly pick at each other until Arizona let them go, too exhausted and emotionally shell-shocked to deal with them. That was six hours ago. Since then, Callie slept, Mark and Lexie called to say they'd bring Asa after breakfast, and Arizona has been here, staring at little Lena, trying to put all her thoughts together.

Lena is absolutely beautiful.

Is it weird for her to feel that way? Narcissistic? But what mother doesn't think her little girl is beautiful? She certainly doesn't want to be that mother. She feels that way about Asa, and he really is the most beautiful boy in the world. ("_No boo-tiful, Momma. Han-sum,_" he urges at his Uncle Mark's insistence.)

Right. She needs to stop; she's going to give both herself and her daughter a complex. She doesn't even look that much like her (if she squints), and she's just a newborn. She'll grow and change in a million ways before she's even her brother's age, so there's no use obsessing over this now. Lena is equally her daughter as Asa is her son, even if DNA or biology (two forces she generally has a lot of faith in) wants to argue differently. Just because a DNA test would actually reveal their relationship, that doesn't mean she'll love Lena any more than Asa. Or any less.

She can't stand it anymore, putting that issue behind her and scooping up her soft, warm newborn baby girl as she moves on to the other issue weighing of her mind: how fate hilariously decided to bring said baby girl into this world on this day of all days.

"_It's just a day, Arizona,_" Callie had sleepily insisted when they'd discussed it six hours ago after settling on Lena's non-battleship-related names.

It is just a day, but it is a pretty important day. Now doubly important. A day whose events her very name immortalized. And she herself once thought birthdays were just days (and believes hers still is), but she knows _her children's birthdays_ are certainly far more than just days. They're... week-long events. And those have been the first and second, the ones Asa will never remember.

Her little girl will want cake and streamers and presents, not solemn reminders of the honorable sacrifices made by a great-grandfather and uncle she'll never know.

So she'll get all that and more, a day all about the little Robbins-Torres princess, but when she's old enough, Arizona will teach her how important it is to honor that legacy, about the great-grandfather who drowned in the warm Pacific waters of Hawaii and the uncle who bled out in the hot sands of Iraq, fighting in the service of their country. About how the lives of those left behind are reflections of those sacrifices. How Arizona carries the legacy in a name, and now Lena carries it in a birthday (and how Lena really got the better deal).

"Arizona," Callie groans sleepily. "You have to sleep at some point."

"Not sleepy," Arizona replies, Lena pulled in close to her chest. She reluctantly moves her eyes up from Lena's perfect little face to meet Callie's grin.

"Give me my baby girl," Callie demands with a yawn. "I should've known you'd stay up and monopolize the cuddling. Just like with Asa. Speaking of, have you talked to...?"

"They called a while back. Mark is making Asa 'man-breakfast', whatever that means, and then they'll bring him over. Lexie promised to make sure that this breakfast was more than bacon."

"Mmm, bacon. Can I have bacon?"

"No. But I'll hand you the baby instead," Arizona offers brightly.

"Consolation prize," Callie teases.

"Lena, your Mami wants bacon more than she wants you," Arizona stage-whispers in their daughter's ear.

"Don't tell her lies," Callie reproaches, happily accepting their newborn. "How's that overactive brain of yours? Did you settle everything into place?"

"Working on it," Arizona nods once, firmly.

"Well, we'll have lots of sleepless nights for you to think it over. Right, Lena?" The newborn gives a big yawn, eyes still barely open. "You know, it's just a..."

"A day, I know," Arizona interrupts gently. "Never thought I'd finally get you to say those words. But it's not just a day; it's Lena's birthday."

"She has a very advanced sense of irony and timing already. She's gonna be trouble."

"I warned you about those Robbins genes. All that awesome in one tiny little package; it gets very dangerous."

Callie looks up from Lena's face and her smile softens, letting her emotive eyes do the talking as they meet Arizona's.

"Thank you."

"Hey, you did all the work, remember?" Arizona deflects. She collapses, physically exhausted if not mentally tired, into the chair pulled up alongside Callie's bed. She pouts a little. "I miss Asa."

"I'm sure he misses you, too," Callie smirks, resisting the urge to tease Arizona about how attached to each other she and their son are.

"I can't wait for him to meet her! Do you think he'll like her?"

"At first, yes. And then, not at all. But eventually, yeah."

Arizona grins. "Like a brother."

"Is that what having a brother is like? With my sister, I'm not sure we ever really moved past 'not at all'. I mean, we love each other, but _like_ is a strong word."

"Oh, hush, you and Aria adore each other. I'm not buying that for one second," Arizona skillfully deflects from Danny on this day of all days.

"So... Since we didn't name her Oklahoma, maybe we should recite FDR's address to her, make it a tradition," Callie teases.

"As much as I'd love to encourage the Robbins tendency towards spontaneous oration, no. Way too depressing for a birthday celebration. And what kind of name is Oklahoma?"

"I don't know; why don't you tell me, _Arizona_?"

"Arizona is a perfectly fine name. Oklahoma is just weird."

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay."

"You are so mean to me, _Calliope_."

"We should stop this before it gets nasty," Callie grins. "Can't fight in front of the baby."

"Right. Of course," Arizona musters a full-blown, dimpled smile. "I love you. And you, Miss Lena."

"We're rather fond of you, ourselves."

"'Rather fond'? '_Rather fond_'?" Arizona gasps, mock-insulted, leaning down towards Callie's warm lips, still beaming at the sight of her girls together.

"Okay, okay. Maybe we love you, too."

"Maybe, hmm?" she grins, lips _almost_ brushing.

"It's as good as you're gonna get," Callie teases, dark eyes sparkling.

"Hmm," Arizona purses her lips thoughtfully, slowly pulling back.

"Get back here, moron," Callie demands. "Of course we love you."

Arizona beams and moves in to press her lips to Callie's, a happy sigh escaping as she pulls away.

"Feel better?" Callie asks knowingly, eyebrow raised.

"So much better."

* * *

el fin


End file.
